


A Delicate Pleasure

by doilycoffin



Series: Witch Sam [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Language of Flowers, Light Angst, M/M, Unrelated Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Witch Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 01:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13823706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doilycoffin/pseuds/doilycoffin
Summary: Dean has a habit of bringing Sam flowers each time he visits and Sam, very graciously, indulges him.





	A Delicate Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the wincest writing challenge. This month's theme was flowers and my specific prompt was Sweet Pea and/or pleasure. 
> 
> I’ve always wanted to write witch!Sam/hunter!Dean and this seemed like a good prompt to do so. One day I may write a prequel for it, but for now I just have this little fluffy snippet into their relationship. :D

The first time that Dean knocked on his door and shoved a bouquet of flowers into his hands with nothing more than a mumbled "hey, Sammy" before pushing past him to go rifle through his kitchen, Sam wasn't quite sure what to think. The notion that Dean was trying to tease him by giving him a "girly" gift crossed his mind but, if anything, it seemed like Dean was more afraid that Sam would make fun of  _him_  than the other way around, judging by the hints of a blush that Sam glimpsed on his cheeks. 

 

Once the initial surprise wore off, Sam started to wonder why he was even surprised in the first place. For all of his faux-macho tendencies and butch facade, Sam had long suspected that, when it came right down to it, Dean was a romantic at heart. Sure, he scoffed at the idea of fancy Valentine's day meals ("Just one big excuse for hoity-toity restaurants to charge eighty bucks a pop for a tiny saucer full of grub, mark my words") and he rolled his eyes at PDA laden couples who cooed pet names at each other, but he also had a softer side that he didn't hide half as well as he thought he did. 

 

For one, he was partial to cooking elaborate meals for Sam whenever he was in town, even if he always did some token grumbling about Sam's health-freak dietary preferences (Sam maintained that  the mere presence of vegetables on a plate didn't constitute him as being a health-nut, but he supposed that all couples had their squabbles.) 

 

For another, he had a habit of crooning words into Sam's ears while they were in bed together that were so sappy and genuine that they made him blush harder than Dean's impressive repertoire of cheesy, porno-vulgarities could ever hope to. 

 

And, perhaps most damningly, Sam saw the way that Dean's face changed whenever they were out-and-about and crossed paths with a happy family or an elderly couple who had clearly been together for decades with their love un-hampered by the passing of time; the way his expression softened and his eyes filled with a wistful longing that, while only visible for a second, was more than palpable enough for Sam to take notice. 

 

So, no, it probably shouldn't have surprised him that Dean went somewhat old-school as far as tokens of affection went, and he didn't have the heart to even playfully tease him about it, especially after he saw the way Dean's face lit up later that evening when he saw the way Sam proudly displayed the flowers in a vase that was smack dab in the middle of his kitchen table. 

 

That was the first, but certainly not the last, time that Dean greeted him with a bouquet of flowers. It became a tradition of sorts for him to bring one with him whenever he rolled into town, and it never failed to make Sam's heart pitter-patter in the most embarrassing way. Sam had never been overly impressed with cliche romantic gifts, finding most of them to be shallow and impersonal, but anything more than a cursory glance showed that Dean's gifts weren't the sort of drugstore afterthoughts purchased ten minutes before pulling into Sam's driveway. 

 

Instead, the flowers seemed to be meticulously selected, ones that Dean knew Sam used frequently in his spellwork and always complained about needing to replenish. The fact that Dean was thoughtful enough to pay attention to that sort of thing at all touched Sam, but he was even more impressed by the fact that Dean clearly put together the bouquets himself; there was a somewhat amateurish air to the way that the flowers were bundled together (Sam supposed that some of them had been gathered at different locations since most florists didn't exactly sell witch-specific bouquets), but it still appeared that Dean was surprisingly adept at flower arrangement. 

 

Sam always felt the slightest bit glum when he eventually had to dismantle parts of the bouquets as spells eventually called for certain plants, but  there was a joy to it as well. There was something immensely satisfying about the fact that Sam could take the very same flowers that Dean gave him and later use them in spells or charm bags designed to protect Dean during his hunts. Sam didn't consider himself to be a particularly suave person with a knack for romantic gestures, but he figured that pouring all of his affection and fondness for Dean into his spellwork in order to keep him safe from afar came pretty damn close. 

 

The composition of the bouquets varied slightly depending on the time of year and whatever region of the country Dean was in before dropping by to see Sam. Things like foxgloves, peonies, aster, valerian, and dozens of other flowers and herbs cycled in and out, but the one constant (and Sam's personal favorite) were the delicate Sweet Pea blossoms that never failed to make an appearance. 

 

The particular color chosen varied, but Sam always saw at least a small handful of pink, blue, or cream colored Sweet Peas tucked in between the other flowers, the sight of which tended to leave a dopey grin on his face more often than not because, maybe even more so than the other flowers, their presence seemed to be painstakingly deliberate. He knew that Dean was too clever to be ignorant of the meaning behind these particular flowers; after all, as a hunter who dealt with witches on a somewhat regular basis, his life had depended more than once on him having a keen understanding of the usage and symbolism of plants in order to understand what effects they had in spellwork. 

 

While the other flowers Dean selected could all be excused by the nature of their magical properties, Sweet Peas had little practical use in spells. For the most part, they were occasionally used in love spells and charms, but (not that he wanted to brag) Sam was was fairly confident that using a love spell on Dean would be entirely unnecessary at this point, even aside from the fact that he had a distaste for that particular branch of magic. 

 

No, there were several reasons to gift someone with Sweet Peas, but most of them were purely sentimental and Sam spent more time than he wanted to admit admiring the flowers in Dean's absence and lightly tracing his fingers along the fragile blooms as he considered their significance. 

 

Delicate pleasure was the most prominent meaning that came to his mind (and it often did, considering that the only "delicate pleasure" he received whenever Dean left was with his own right hand) and as often as sex between them could be exciting and adventurous to the point of being ill-advised, there was a sort of gentleness to it more frequently than not. 

 

It was in the way that Dean treated him so carefully on those occasions when he had just gotten back from a difficult hunt, as if he were afraid that Sam would crumble beneath his touch. It was in the way that Dean clutched him so closely to him that Sam half-thought they would eventually just melt together (and wouldn't have particularly minded if they did). 

 

It was in the way that he would run his fingers through Sam's hair when they were lying in bed together afterwards, laying kisses wherever he pleased on his sweaty skin, just because he could. 

 

Appreciation was another, and he could see it written all over Dean's face whenever Sam welcomed him into his home, as if there was a split second where Dean was afraid that Sam might refuse his company one of these days and slam the door in his face instead (as if Sam would, or even  _could_ , do such a thing).

 

There was gratitude for the little things too, with Dean being pleased whenever he found Sam's cabinets full of junk food that went untouched until his arrival and whenever Sam cooked him a deliciously greasy breakfast in the mornings without speculating about the state of his arteries. 

 

Sometimes he caught Dean with that look on his face for no discernible reason at all, as if Sam's mere presence filled him with gratitude, and it was east for Sam to become overwhelmed by it. It was an intense thing to be loved by someone like Dean, to know that, no matter how often he liked to get on Sam's nerves and tease him relentlessly, there was no illusion that he wouldn't do or forsake anything if it meant that Sam was happy and safe. 

 

The weight of Dean's affection felt almost suffocating at times, like he feared that he would inevitably fall short of whatever expectations Dean had for him or prove he was unworthy of his devotion. Those darker moments were fortunately few and far between though, and he mostly tried to focus his attentions on showing Dean that every ounce of gratitude he had was mirrored in Sam as well. 

 

Departure was the most bittersweet sentiment that the Sweet Pea had to offer, and Sam tried not to linger on it as much as the others even though it was a frequent hurdle in his relationship with Dean. Saying "goodbye" to him got harder and harder each time he did it, but Sam had an occult shop to run that had  hunters and fellow witches alike who depended on his knowledge and services while Dean had people all across the country whose lives relied on him slaying whatever monster or malevolent entity was terrorizing them. Knowing this didn't make watching Dean drive away from him each time any easier, however. 

 

The flowers softened the blow slightly, reminded him that "goodbye" would quickly become "hello" again as Dean usually came back into town, even if only for a little while, before the Sweet Peas' petals even dried out completely and were traded in with fresher blossoms, beginning the cycle anew.  

 

Before Dean left each time, Sam would sneak a couple of them into his jacket pocket as they shared one last lingering kiss in his doorway. He liked to think that Dean might discover them and pull them out sometimes when the road seemed too lonely and a hunt too despairing. 

 

 _Farewell_ , the flowers might say to him. 

 

 _Come back to me soon_. 


End file.
